Page 67 of The Art of Loving You

‘I can fry.’ He told me about his legendary sarnies as we walked back to the house – bacon, sausage, egg, mayo and ketchup.

Jack would have loved them.

Yesterday’s rain had washed everything with a vibrancy, the fields a brilliant emerald, the rapeseed a dazzling yellow. Breeze from the open window ruffled my hair as I drove Liam to college, the radio playing TLC’s ‘Waterfalls’. I glanced across at him, wondering whether to tell him the story of when Jack and I visited a waterfall but he was lost in his own thoughts and I didn’t think I could share that memory yet without crying.

Twenty minutes later I had dropped him at college and was ringing Noah’s bell, hoping he’d be in.

‘Hello?’ A nervous-looking woman greeted me. She was probably around Mum’s age, but without make-up, without hair dye covering up her grey, she appeared older.

‘Is Noah here?’ I asked.

‘He’s in the shower.’ She didn’t ask me in.

‘Can I leave a note?’

‘Yes. Of course. I’m Sandra, his mum.’ She waited while I patted my pockets, knowing that I didn’t have a pen or paper. ‘I don’t suppose you have something I can write with?’

After a brief pause she stepped back and let me inside. The hallway smelled of furniture polish.

‘Come into the kitchen,’ she said. It was impossible not to stare at the array of photos lining the walls, the childhood of Noah and Bethany spread out before me.

A beaming toddler with long blonde hair holding a baby.

Bethany and Noah at primary school, matching jumpers and toothy grins.

On a beach, striking a pose in front of a sparkling sea.

The last photo of Bethany was when she was around eighteen. There was the odd one of adult Noah after that, but the light from his eyes had gone. His smile had disappeared from view.

‘How do you know Noah?’ As she spoke his name he wandered into the room.

‘Libby?’ Noah filled the tiny remaining space. ‘What are you doing here?’ He threw a worried glance towards his mum. I smiled a reassuring I-haven’t-upset-her smile.

‘I wanted to ask you a favour, and pay you back for the paracetamol and Lucozade of course.’

‘Oh …’ Sandra’s fingers found the silver locket around her neck and she began to twist it on its chain. ‘Bethany and Noah used to love Lucozade,’ she said.

‘We did.’ Noah’s face was ashen as he ushered me towards the front door, calling a hurried ‘See you later, Mum’ to Sandra. ‘Sorry. She gets upset at the thought of Bethany and she’s quite unsettled by visitors. You really didn’t need to pay me back. Do you fancy a coffee or something? You said you wanted a favour?’ He studied me with kind eyes.

‘Shall we go to the church? Is that too morbid? It’s peaceful there. I can visit Jack and you can visit Bethany.’

A tortured expression briefly crossed Noah’s face before he said, ‘Of course. If that’s what you want.’

We walked up to the church, after stopping at the Co-op for drinks on the way.

Lucozade.

On a whim I bought some pale pink roses for Jack’s grave and once I’d placed them carefully in the flower holder, talking softly to Jack as I arranged them, I joined Noah on the bench, the wooden slats warmed by the sun.

‘So … the favour?’ he asked.

‘I’ve decided to go ahead with the renovations on the house.’

‘Wow. That’s a positive thing to do.’

‘I hope so. I veer between thinking it’s a good thing and thinking I’m absolutely crazy.’

‘It’s a big place.’

---